Sunflower Boy
by Ideas265
Summary: Summary: Goodbyes aren't forever. It means I'll miss you 'til we meet again Young Russia (aka Ivan) is disappointed when General Winter steals away his love, sunflowers. Getting drunk, he recues this mysterious brown bird that unlocks the key to his wish. Starring Russia and an OC! Sunflower Boy


Hey guys! It's me, Ideas265! It's been a **long** since I've been on site. I've been busy writing some fiction and stuff. Looking back at my old fanfic, I saw how cool they were. Now, my work's been getting really sloppy **(a big no no!) **So, inspired by Let It Go/Let Her Go by Sam Tsui, I wrote this little fairytale thingy-ma-jig. I hope y'all like it (yes, I'm Texan in no shape or form). I don't normally like putting an OC in my story, but he's play a small part in the overall oneshot, so I don' mind for this time around. Like my profile says, I'm not all that great with long stories so the stories _When life spills your tea, throw it right back! _and _Photos Worth Preserving_ won't be continued **(I might update on chapters in the future, I'm really unsure right now) **So, someone can "steal" those stories, my permission. But, I don't have the heart to take them down like my other "novel" stories. It's a reminder for me, peeps. So, if you want to steal them, go on ahead.

Enough of my sad ramble, let's get this story on the ROLL!

* * *

Ivan gazed out at the wilting sunflower fields, crestfallen. Layers and layers of fresh frost and snow piled over the beautiful, bloomed flowers he met just two hours ago. The unforgiving winds from _Mr. Jack Frost_ brushed by; blowing Ivan's scarf and scattering sunflower petals high into the sky. The yellow petals swayed and fell, showering the Russian with the bit of color they still held. One of them fell on his pink nose. Picking it up, he cupped it in his hands and blew his warm breath over it. His cheery willow-basket slipped out from between his fingers and left a dent in the snow.

_Snow…why did General Winter have to be so cruel?_

Collapsing on his knees, Ivan glared at the sky. General Winter had the right playing cards in his hands. The cozy, sweet sun was blinded by his cold, gray fingers, and a flurry of flakes drenched the scene, erasing away the cheery warmth of yellow and green.

Pushing himself back up, Ivan raised his fist up into the air, releasing his hope for Winter to see. Breathing deeply, he dropped his fist and looked down at the little petal in his other hand. Trembling, he blew his breath on it again before letting it go for Winter to see. Like the little petal, young Ivan would have to swirl his way out into the light of day. And nothing, not even General Winter, would stop him. Dusting off his basket, he trudged his way back home. He loosened his itchy scarf and draped it over his shoulder.

_The cold never bothered him anyway._

Back at home, he stared at the vodka bottle in his hands. Shifting the alcohol around, he took a swig and slammed the bottle on the table. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he closed his eyes, picturing fields and fields of blooming sunflowers. In his imagination, he brushed his fingers against them, admiring them. They were so strong and they grew so fast.

Ivan opened his eyes and looked out the window. Dreams like those bright sunflowers only came once in a lifetime. They grew their way out of the soil slowly, but they wilt so fast. Ivan glanced at his empty vodka bottle and rubbed his nose. The drink left him warm and fuzzy, but his felt so cold inside.

He closed his eyes, and he saw those fields of warm yellow once again. _Maybe, one day, I'll understand why_, Ivan thought, opening his eyes. He tugged his coat closer to himself. Truly, anything General Winter touches dies. Ivan hiccupped. He thought about the little petal he released into the winds. So much potential…gone in seconds.

_Everything I touch dies too_…

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Ivan groaned, waking up. He raised his head and opened an eye. The house was dark, and there was no one outside.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Spitting into his empty vodka bottle, Ivan grabbed his metal pole and opened the door. Instead of meeting a person, he saw a shivering little, brown bird at his doorstep. The animal looked up at him and fluttered into his house.

"Hey, get back here!" Ivan jumped onto the floor and caught the birdie. When he did, he immediately knew something was wrong. Its tiny wings were stuck in odd angles. _Winter_, Ivan frowned. Taking his scarf off, he bundled it around the bird and grabbed some bandage wrap from the cupboard. Wrapping it softly around the bird's wings, he took notice of the little pouch attached onto his leg. _A messenger bird at this time in age?_

He glanced at the bird. It glanced back at him. Walking slowly to his kitchen, he grabbed a loaf of bread and tore pieces for it to eat. Cooing, it accepted the gift and stuck its leg out. Slipping his gloves off, Ivan opened the pouch and poured its contents out. Seeds…_sunflower _seeds scattered across the table. Ivan picked one up.

To his amazement, the seed burst open and a little sunflower grew before his eyes. The bird stared at him, ruffling its wings. Getting onto its feet, it gathered the other seeds into its beak before dropping them back into the pouch. Flapping its wings, it pecked and scratched the table and Ivan. With its beak, it pointed at the door.

"You're not strong enough yet," Ivan reasoned. "Your wings need to heal." The bird shook its head. It pointed at the sunflower in Ivan's hands and then pointed at the door. Ivan put the two together. Gulping, he grabbed his willow-basket.

Minutes later, he locked his house and trudged his way back to the sunflower fields, the bird and the little sunflower inside his basket. General Winter's howls and snow smacked and slowed the Russian, but he kept going. When he got there, Ivan dropped down on his knees. It was so dark. He wished he had brought a flashlight with him. Ivan blew his breath onto his trembling hands. The sun…he wished it was strong enough to break through the clouds…

But, he had a job to do. Opening his basket, the little bird hopped out. Grabbing the sunflower, Ivan and the bird dug a hole for the fragile plant. Tucking it into the snow like a child tucked to bed, Ivan wrapped his coat around the shivering plant and collapsed into the snow. His eyes opened and closed many times. He was so tired, but he had to go. But, he couldn't leave the sunflower all alone.

Rubbing his eyes, he snugged the bird close to his body. He wasn't going to let it freeze out here either. Ivan closed his eyes, imagining the warmth of the sun over his skin. The warm colors of spring melted in. The Russian smiled. Oh, how he would trade anything to see all of that one more time: the sunflowers, the birds' songs, and the wide smiles of children as they played among the sunflowers.

_Oh, how he would trade anything._

The little bird flapped and squawked and pecked its way out of Ivan's hands. Ivan opened his eyes. The little bird was tearing its bandages off. Stretching its wings, it tried to fly, but the winds smacked it back down. And it tried again and again and again. Sitting up, Ivan grabbed the bird and threw it into the air. Animal cruelty or not, the bird didn't land back down. It flew, soaring higher and higher into the sky. It unbuckled its seed pouch and spun over the sunflower fields.

Like they were little packs of five-hour energy, the seeds melted away the snow and grew into tall, strong sunflowers. The melted snow changed into green grass, and their warmth spread to where Ivan was. The dying little sunflower under his coat grew into a giant and stood up tall. Ivan stood up, mouth dropped.

The fields of barren snow were now forests of hundreds and hundreds of the flowers he knew and loved. The sky…the sun's bubbly warmth broke through General Winter's fingers. He shielded his eyes from the light, scanning the sky for the little brown bird. But, it was gone.

Instead, he saw a rustle in the sunflower forest. A boy broke into view, arms full of sunflowers. He smiled and waved over at Ivan. The Russian waved back, confused. Putting his hand down, he noticed a pouch attached to the boy's leg, same as the brown bird.


End file.
